The Houses Competition
by BlameThePlunnies
Summary: Submissions for The Houses Competition. 1: First Crush - Drabble. 2: Two Very Bad Days - Short. 3: Wotcher - Themed
1. Chapter 1: First Crush

**A/N: Nervously posting my first entry for a competition…**

 **House: Gryffindor**

 **Category: Drabble**

 **Prompt: Fred/Hermione [Couple]**

 **Words: 634**

 **Beta: Theoreticaloptimist**

* * *

Hermione was twelve years old when she had her first crush, and it wasn't on that irritating Ronald Weasley, either.

…

She met him for the first time when she was going back to the Common Room after lunch. And like any cliché story, he ran into her and nearly knocked her down the flight of stairs she had just walked up.

"Whoops!" Someone grabbed her arm before she could fall down the stairs. She saw a flash of red hair and brown eyes, and then she was back on her feet, clinging rather desperately to the person who had sent her down in the first place.

"Sorry about that," the same person said, chuckling. She recognized him now. Fred Weasley. The infamous troublemaker. Together, he and his brother made up the majority of the staff's headaches. "Didn't see you there," he added when she didn't respond.

Instantly, she bristled. She had been getting a lot of flack about her blood status from the Slytherins, and most people brushed her off when she tried to tell them things - important things! She would not stand for being insulted about yet another thing she couldn't control!

"I'll have you know that I am perfectly sized for my age!" she said huffily. His eyes went wide in exaggerated shock. It only spurred her on. "And furthermore, what kind of person doesn't take responsibility for almost knocking someone down the stairs?"

"Whoa," he laughed. "Calm down! I'm sorry, okay?" He looked around and then back at her. "You won't tell about this, will you?" he asked, his expression pleading.

She frowned at him. She might be considered a know-it-all and a teacher's pet, but she wouldn't rat out someone from her own house. Especially someone from another year. What kind of person did he take her for?

"I wouldn't-" she began rather indignantly, when he cut her off. He shook her hand furiously.

"Great! Then we have no more problems," he said cheerfully, eyes crinkling with good humor. Stunned, she could only stand there as he released her hand and moved around her, darting down the staircase and hooking a long arm around the banister to swing himself down. "See you later, Granger!"

Hermione stared after him. Then she shook her head. " _Boys_ ," she muttered angrily, righting her bag and marching determinedly towards the Common Room. But the blush from the warmth of his hand - that had appeared somewhere between the beginning and end of the handshake - remained for a few minutes after.

…

* * *

So maybe she secretly had a small, teensy-weensy, itty-bitty crush on the shameless, absolutely infuriating, and yet extraordinarily attractive Fred Weasley. Rule breaker extraordinair and brother to one of the most aggravating prats in existence.

But by her second year, the admiration had staved off somewhat. She grew older, wiser, and she got closer to that git Ronald Weasley - who turned out to be not so bad at times, even if he and Harry crashed a car into a _tree_.

During third year, she spent more time thinking more about Ron than Fred, and her heart only jumped a little when Fred talked to her. After some time, however, Hermione realized that she and Fred simply wouldn't mesh well. He was a free spirit. She was...rules and logic. Even if he ever looked at her the same way, their relationship would be wrought with disagreements and fights. She could tell.

And so, by fourth year, she had more or less moved on completely. She had her eyes on a new, similarly infuriating target. She smiled as she watched Fred and Angelina, because she was happy for him.

And though she let him go and moved on, she would never forget him - the boy who had been her first crush.

* * *

 **I feel like I ended that too abruptly, but oh well…**


	2. Chapter 2: Two Very Bad Days

**A/N: Here we go! Prepare for h/c, people, it's my specialty.**

 **House: Gryffindor**

 **Category: Short**

 **Prompt: "If I could turn back time and undo what I've done…" [Speech]**

 **Words: 1,440**

 **Beta: lovelyhanna**

* * *

It all started when that Stupid Reporter opened his big, fat mouth.

Ron had already been having a terrible evening. He'd had not one, not two, but _three_ child emergencies on his person before arriving - Hermione still hadn't forgiven him for making her take the fourth - and the two of them had been ten minutes late to this "event" that neither of them had wanted to attend in the first place, but they had reluctantly agreed because they weren't ditching Harry at something like this; and now there was _this guy_. This _idiot_ who kept bringing up the war even though it was clear that _none_ of them wanted to talk about it, much less answer a stream of frankly insensitive questions about it. Some people just couldn't take a hint, honestly.

Ron and the other two had been holding up pretty well, in his opinion. Ginny hadn't been able to come because she was pregnant and hormonal, and Harry was as overprotective of her as ever. Speaking of Harry-

" _Excuse me_?" Ron's best friend asked coldly. His green eyes bored holes into the reporter, who quite frankly had no business looking so confident in himself with the Wizarding Savior looking at him like that.

"I said," the prat began, but Hermione cut him off.

"We all heard you," she said flatly. "There's no point wasting oxygen to hear it again. What we want to know is how you think it's any of your business." She was pissed, Harry was pissed, and Ron was getting there himself - the only reason he wasn't already there was because he was taken aback that someone even had the audacity to ask.

The reporter spread his hands in an annoyingly condescending gesture. "I just think the world deserves to know," he said smoothly.

"We _saved_ the Wizard world eight years ago," Ron butted in rudely, because to hell with that noise. "I think we've paid our dues." There were murmurs of agreement that made him feel slightly better. At least not everyone was on board with this idiot's line of questioning.

"No, Ron," Harry said unexpectedly, "it's okay." Ron threw him a sharp expression, while everyone else expressed shock or eagerness in some manner. "If he thinks he can handle it, then I see no problem with letting him know."

He turned back to the reporter, whose smug face faded slightly in face of Harry's grim, haunted expression. The expression of a war veteran and a man who had been pulled into too much too young.

"If I had the chance to go back in time, to the very beginning, would I? Would I use time-turners if they hadn't all been destroyed? Essentially, if I could turn back time and undo what I've done, would I?" Harry's eyes swept across the crowd of press. They quieted and leaned forward as one. Eager vultures, the lot of them. Ron hated the annual press conferences that Harry had to attend due to his life-time position as the Savior of Britain.

"The answer is that I would. Of course I would," Harry replied. "Without a second thought."

"Even though it might mess up the timeline?" the same reporter asked snidely. Harry's eyes hardened.

"Over fifty people died in the Battle of Hogwarts alone," he said sharply. "If it were to save even one of them, wouldn't you?" He paused, and then he said, "But maybe fifty is too few. Even though many of them were _school children_. But what about the families that died in the years prior to the battle? What about the innocents slaughtered at the hands of Voldemort" and here people still shuddered "both wizard and muggle? Are they _insignificant_ enough that you would still worry about the _timeline_?"

The reporter frowned and opened his mouth to protest, but Harry disregarded this and kept going. He was on a roll. He'd learned how to talk over people from Hermione, and how to ignore them through Ron.

"I'm sure I could ask anyone who survived the war. Anyone who had family members, friends, and co-workers - I'd ask and I know they would say yes. They would agree. Because for me, if I could save even _one_ life, than I wouldn't care about the timeline."

"Are you sure you just don't want to save _your_ friends and family? You had a godfather who was killed, didn't you?" the reporter said.

"How _dare_ you!" Hermione said furiously. She waved off Harry's attempt to cut her off before she really let that bastard of a reporter have it. "No - Harry! You don't have to sit here and take this!" She gave the reporter a disdainful look. "You! Where were you during the war? Were you fighting? Were you even in the country?"

"I hardly see how that is relevant," the man said stiffly.

"It's _relevant_ because you don't know what you're talking about," Ron said, a bit more calmly than his wife. "I bet you didn't lose anyone in the war. And you talking about letting those people die just to keep the timeline the same, for the _greater good_ \- you know who you sound like, mate? Gellert Grindelwald. The _other_ Dark Lord."

"Enough," Harry said, before anyone could respond to that. He suddenly looked incredibly tired and old, grey hair some how much more visibly peeking at his temples at twenty-five. "Look, I'm not perfect. I'd do everything again to save Sirius, damn the consequences. But quite frankly, I don't need to hear how terrible that sounds because I _know_. But I _also_ know that it _isn't_ possible. And I won't waste my time thinking about it, or justifying it to anyone."

He sighed. "And if you think you wouldn't do the same in a similar position, then you're delusional and severely underestimating your own selfishness."

And that was... profound, and would probably cause a lot of controversy. But Ron couldn't find it in himself to care.

"Alright, that's enough," he said, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder and nodding at the Aurors stationed nearby. The guards moved forwards while the trio moved back, both groups ignoring the exclamations and questions. Damn the lot of them - Harry had given enough for a lifetime. They could spare him one night.

…

* * *

Richard Hawthorne was having a bad day. First, he'd been yelled at by his boss for upsetting someone he'd been interviewing to the point where she just refused to say a word. It wasn't _his_ fault that her husband had been cheating. And then, at the press conference, his last saving grace before his boss cut him off for good, Potter and his duo of body guards had humiliated him in front of everyone! He couldn't very well write a scathing article now without coming off as insensitive or a supporter of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Just before he reached his apartment building, someone grabbed his arm and yanked him into an alley. He was hit with a Silencing Charm, a Body-bind, and an Impediment Jinx for good measure before he even saw who it was.

His body was turned around, and before him stood on Draco Malfoy. Grey eyes narrowed in a disdainful glare, and pale hand holding a wand, he made an intimidating picture.

"Richard Hawthorne," Malfoy said smoothly. "I've been watching you." He paused while Richard's eyes bulged. Malfoy leaned closer. "You've been making trouble for Potter, and I want you to stop." Then, he leaned away. "Or you could continue, and I could inform _The Quibbler_ about what you _really_ did during those years in the war. They would be more than happy to publish a scandalous article about you."

Richard tried to think of a way to get out of this. Malfoy was rich, clever, and dangerous. Not good odds for him.

"Potter saved the Wizarding World. The least you could do is to let him live in peace," Malfoy said coldly. With a wand pointed at his face from a former Death Eater, and a current member of the Ministry of Magic - Richard had no doubt Malfoy could make him disappear with few questions asked. So, he did the only sensible thing, and he nodded as best he could while immobilized. Malfoy smirked.

"Excellent. Good day," he said with a sneer. "You should hope I never see you again." And with that warning, he disapparated.

Richard tried to move - and then found that all of the spells were still in place. He could have sworn he heard chuckles as his face purpled with the effort to do _something_. But that was probably his imagination.

Right?


	3. Chapter 3: Wotcher

**A/N: And last but not least...**

 **House: Gryffindor**

 **Category: Themed**

 **Prompt: Aurors [Characters/Occupation/Person]**

 **Words: 2,091**

 **Beta: Theoreticaloptimist**

* * *

 _October 5th, 1992_

 _Wotcher,_

 _This is Nymphadora Tonks, writing the first entry in her journal via recommendation of superior officers and Healers._

 _Today I met the infamous Mad-Eye Moody. He really is as paranoid as they - meaning the rumor mill - say he is. When I met him, I had to undergo three identity tests and a few unpleasant interrogation sessions to prove I wasn't an imposter. But now, I've been assigned to be his new protégé/apprentice. So far, I've fetched him coffee, gotten his mail, and have been told countless times to change my hair color to something more inconspicuous. Somehow I imagined that being an Auror would be more...exciting. The job description did include 'contact with dark wizards' and 'potential life threatening situations'. The only threat to my life right now is boredom._

 _Maybe I should've made like that Weasley and gone off to chase dragons in Romania._

 _October 22nd, 1992_

 _Wotcher,_

 _Dora Tonks again, for her second entry. It's been a few days. Mad-Eye's been putting me through the ringer. Apparently that all-seeing eye of his read my journal and now he thinks that I need to "stop whining" and start working on my "lack of coordination". It's only partially my fault that I can't get through the damn obstacle course without tripping a trap. I'm told it's genetic, though I don't know on which side…_

 _Anyway, got to go. He's giving me a suspicious glare again._

 _October 25th, 1992_

 _Wotcher,_

 _Dora here again. Third entry and all that rot. Today...today was not a good day. It was my third mission with Mad-Eye - we all know who he is by now - and he got injured. Badly. The Healers are having him stay for another three days. He absolutely hates St. Mungo's - mostly because he thinks none of the potions are safe - but Kingsley is talking him down. Thank God. Anyway. No matter what anyone says, I know the truth._

 _It was all my fault._

 _November 2nd, 1992_

 _Wotcher,_

 _Dora Tonks here with a special edition of "Why People Shouldn't Piss Off Mad-Eye Moody". Some journalist tart got in his face today because he didn't go through 'Proper Procedures' when investigating a lead on some illegal objects.  
It was pretty hilarious. He only had to give her a look with both eyes and growl before she scampered off, citing some useless law that hasn't been in effect for over twenty years. Mad-Eye sent a letter to her boss - something about not letting idiots out into the world for everyone else's safety - and I'm pretty sure she got fired. I think her name was Skeeter, or something. Well, serves her right. Trying to talk to Mad-Eye about regulations and all that rot. I think that, if it were anyone else, Mad-Eye would ignore the rules for fun. If he knew what fun was anyway._

 _Just thought I'd jot that down while I have time. Mad-Eye's busy_ _haranguing_ _some new recruits. I'd feel bad for them, but honestly it's better them than me._

 _February 20th, 1993_

 _Wotcher,_

 _It's me again. Might as well keep it first person. It's been...three months since I last wrote. A lot has happened. Mad-Eye and I are the best of friends now - though he'll deny it to his dying breath, stubborn old coot. He watches my back, my sides, his back, his sides; his eye is quite handy. In return, I provide a bit of fun in his dreary, dull life. My words not his. I'm sure he's satisfied with the bachelor life, but I think some input from the youth of today does him good._

 _The current record for visits to St. Mungo's is three days. This is mostly for me, to show me how abysmal I am at taking care of myself, but it's also for Mad-Eye. I think it's because the higher-ups are worried about how reckless one of their top agents is. Three days ago, though, was all me. And it wasn't even  
a mission. Two words: Enchanted Bees. I think I'll have a phobia for the rest  
of my life._

 _Don't ever perform an Engorgement Charm on a beehive. The honey is not worth it._

 _March 16th, 1992_

 _Wotcher,_

 _Took Mad-Eye to see my parents. Not willingly, but I ingested a foul potion and the Healers thought I should stay with family/friends. And of course, Mad-Eye didn't want to take care of me, so he took me to my parent's home. That was...interesting. At least Dad didn't pull his usual tricks, otherwise I would  
have lost any respect Mad-Eye holds for me. If he holds any. After this potion situation, I could be back to ground zero._

 _September 4th, 1995_

 _Wotcher,_

 _Lost my journal for a few years, as is seen by the difference in dates. Thought I'd placed it in my drawer, but apparently not. I found it whilst cleaning out my old apartment. I'm moving soon. Need to be closer to London, where it's all going down. Met the Potter boy. He seems nice. A bit innocent, but that's to be  
expected. He's also frightfully jumpy, but considering what he's been through, I guess he has reason to be._

 _News from the past three years...graduated from Mad-Eye's lackey to a partner. You know, after he got stuffed in his own foot locker for a year. Merlin that's depressing to think about. I think I'll grab a drink. Maybe Remus will join me, for once._

 _August 31st, 1996_

 _Wotcher,_

 _It's been a long year. We're losing people left and right. Families are going into hiding. You-Know - No. Here, in the privacy of my journal, I'll call him by name. The bastard doesn't deserve to have that kind of reverence. Voldemort is on the move. Harry - poor kid - is under pressure from both Albus and the Ministry to be some sort of hero. I don't know what Albus thinks he's doing, pinning all of our hopes on a seventeen year-old. It doesn't sit right with me, but I can't really speak against the one man Voldemort is wary of._

 _Still mad at Remus. Oh, I guess you don't know about him. I don't feel like explaining, so I'll just say that men are obtuse and stupid, and I'd scream my lungs out at him if I weren't in love with him. Arse wants to stay away from me for my "safety", whatever the bloody hell that means. Apparently my feelings  
aren't important enough to consider. No, he just wants to preserve his own conscience and..._

 _That's enough of that I think. In other news, Mad-Eye is out catching Dark Wizards again, so he's happy. I guess I'll get there too. Hopefully this damn war will turn soon and we can all go back to living boring, uneventful lives. Never thought I'd ask for it, but it's better than the alternative._

 _September 1st, 1996_

 _Bloody Snape and his bloody, stupid face. He's a git, and no one will ever tell me differently! And Remus can go to hell too for all I care!_

 _November 5th, 1996_

 _What is it with men and avoiding serious conversations? Remus runs like a coward any time I try to talk to him. Molly advises I let him come to me. Bugger that! I can damn well chase him down and sit his arse down for a long-awaited talk._

 _June 30th, 1997_

 _Albus is dead. I...I don't know anything anymore. Snape was always an arse, but to commit murder like this. To betray us. I didn't know he had it in him. Harry, the poor boy, is devastated. We all are. I think he's taking it too hard on himself. Clearly no one has told him that it isn't his fault. None of this is.  
I don't think it would convince him if I said anything though. Maybe Hagrid or Arthur will talk to him. _

_As for Albus - funeral arrangements are being made as we speak. Minerva is taking over the school. She thinks, and I agree, that this might mean the end of Hogwarts. Remus won't talk to me, Molly is inconsolable about Bill, Harry won't tell any of us what he and Albus were doing before he died. I think this might be the end of the Order too._

 _I don't know what to do._

 _July 15th, 1997_

 _In spite of all that's happening, I can safely say that I am happy today at least. Today is my wedding day! Remus, the bastard, finally got down on one knee. We're keeping it on the mum, so that the blasted Ministry doesn't press charges because of his status. But I just want this one day to be perfect. That's all I'm asking._

 _July 27th, 1997_

 _The plan went to shite and Mad-Eye is dead. I will fucking_ _ **murder**_ _Severus Snape, and fucking Lord Voldemort, and all of the fucking Death Eaters. This is a promise._

 _April 4th, 1998_

 _Teddy was born a few days ago. Happiest day of my life besides my wedding day. Merlin I'm exhausted. I think Remus and I are getting four hours of sleep between us each night. Who knew babies were so tiring? I think I owe my parents a few drinks._

 _April 20th, 1998_

 _Been busy, but just thought I should write down that Teddy is two weeks old! Yay! His hair changes color, so at least he'll inherit his disguise abilities from his old mum. Remus is so proud. If Teddy reads this someday, I hope he'll know that we both love him very much in spite of the lack of sleep we're getting. Mummy loves you, dearest!_

 _Got to fly - I smell a baby disaster on the way._

 _May 2nd, 1998_

 _For perhaps the final time, Wotcher,_

 _This is for Teddy, my darling boy. I want you to know that Mummy and Daddy love you very much. If we don't make it out alive today, you should have these rules to obey to help you be a good person, okay?_

 _1: Always respect your caretakers and elders. They're feeding you and clothing you - and if they aren't then feel free to raise hell._

 _2: Treat girls with respect. Your father could have used this advice, but maybe you'll learn from his mistakes. Just ask Gran about the things he pulled when he was younger._

 _3: Be kind and loving. Don't ever argue with someone and then let the anger sit for days. Resolve it. It'll be worth it. Just in case. Always show the people around you that you love them._

 _And remember. We will always love you, and we will always be proud of you, no matter what decisions you make or where you end up or who you end up with._

 _Sincerely  
yours forever,_

 _Nymphadora  
Tonks._

Tears dripped down Hermione's face as she finished the book.

"Hermione, are you done in he-" Ron's voice cut off when he took in her somewhat wrecked state. He knelt down beside her and gently tugged the journal from her grasp.  
"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked in concern.

"N-nothing," she sniffed. "I just...found this." She took the partially-full journal back and opened it to the first page and showed him the signature.

"Who- oh. Is this… What is this?" Ron frowned as he scanned the writing.

"It's a log. From her first few Auror days to - to the day of her death," she said, wiping away the remaining tears. His face cleared.

"Oh. _Oh_. We should - we should give this to Teddy," he said, looking at the journal like  
he would a priceless artifact. "If these are her last words. He deserves to  
know them."

"Definitely. But...maybe Harry should read it too. It might give him some peace," she said  
uncertainly. She didn't want to prevent Teddy from reading about his mother, but Harry… Ron nodded.

"Yeah. They can go through it together. I think it'll be good for them," he agreed. He  
stood and dusted off his jeans. Then, he held out a hand to help her up. "C'mon then. Everyone's wondering where you are. Angelina's got a surprise for us. George has been looking shifty for days, so it'll probably be good."

Hermione smiled and stood. Then, they walked out the door to the promise of a new life  
and many more good things to come, reveling with contentment in the knowledge  
that everyone they knew was safe and secure. For now, everything was peaceful.

And that was all they could have asked for in such an unstable world.

* * *

 **A/N: This starts off as a perfunctory thing for Tonks to do but then gets more personal, in regards to her using her first name so professionally at first.**


	4. Chapter 4: Aftershocks

**A/N: Gratuitous H/C because I'm trash like that. Anyone who can figure out the narrator before the end gets a virtual high five.**

 **House: Gryffindor**

 **Category: Drabble**

 **Prompt: Shaking [Action]**

 **Word Count: 470**

 **Beta: Theoreticaloptimist**

* * *

Even now, years after it's all happened, her hands still tremble.

The Healers tell her that it's nerve damage - unfixable because it was an Unforgivable that did the damage. It doesn't hurt, but it's not pleasant either. Her more knowledgeable friends look for answers - cures - all over the world. They try books, plants, ancient potions, new potions, spells, counter-curses, runes, long-forgotten hermits in huts on the outskirts of third-world countries; they call in favor after favor after favor until she finally tells them enough is enough. She can live with some shaking in her hands. She doesn't need the guilt of them wasting years of their life on her shoulders too. Selfish, maybe, but she's isn't arsed enough to care. Besides, it's not the worst affliction. She certainly got off lightly considering the curse in question.

For now, until a viable solution presents itself, whenever she's particularly focused or motivated, she can steady her hands. Otherwise she has a permanent tremor in her hands, like those war veterans she read about when she was younger.

Oddly enough, the only times her hands consistently _don't_ shake is when she's casting spells. Even writing is a challenge for her. Maybe she should have been an Auror.

Still, she's nothing if not intelligent enough to make up for her own deficiencies. After all, what company - magical or otherwise - would want an office worker who can't write her own name without it coming out as an illegible mess? After some time spent in despair at all of the unfulfilled promises, she gathers herself up and bullies her brain into coming up with solutions.

She charms any writing utensils into automatically compensating for her hands' unsteadiness, she transfigures a small wooden holder for her books and papers, she holds what she absolutely has to in her arms and levitates everything else, and she firmly refuses to think about what a mess she must seem like to the rest of the world. She survived a war that killed dozens if not hundreds, and yet she can't even sign a check or read a book without aid.

Her friends, once they catch on, are eager to be useful however they can be. Instead of fixing her body, they look to adjust things around it. Change the environment, not the person. It's great. It's wonderful. She couldn't ask for better people to help her, to love her.

Sometimes she just wants to scream at them all to leave her alone. But she doesn't. Because she knows better.

And even now, after so many years, she gets nightmares of excruciating pain and of the word _Mudblood_ being screamed at her, over and over again. Because Hermione Weasley nee Granger still hasn't recovered from the effects of Bellatrix's depraved cruelty at Malfoy Manor.

And she thinks that she never will.


End file.
